In a Matter of Hours
by BroughtBack
Summary: Jonathan Crane, trapped in England after having fled from Gotham, finds himself surrounded by infected and a certain military operation headed by one Major Henry West, who has taken an interest in the "kind" doctor. Slash. REVIEWS PLEASE.


**AN**: I absolutely adore Jonathan Crane from the Batman series, even before Cillian Murphy (my favorite actor) played him. I recently rewatched both Batman Begins and 28 Days Later and was inspired to write this fic. I don't usually like crossovers due to the fact that people usually come to the conclusion that two universes don't have a chance of being during the same time period or in the same world and that the space time continuum must be broken in order to make something work. I beg to differ.

**oOo**

Jonathan sighed as he adjusted his grip on his suitcase, his mask in place as he walked along the dirt road headed towards the enormous building. He had heard the radio broadcast, had found any mode of transportation that he could and made his slow, agonizing way across Britain. Bright blue eyes squinted at the mansion, taking in the slight movement of a patrol along the elevated driveway and porch. Shoving his mask into his pocket, the brunette shook his wrist to make sure that his canister was filled before he continued on his way. He wanted to make sure that these people wouldn't get the wrong impression of him; he wasn't someone they could push around.

"Oy! Halt!" Jonathan stopped right beside the slanting driveway, placing his suitcase on the ground before straightening, dusting off his threadbare jacket nonchalantly before he looked up at the men with an unimpressed stare. "State your name and business!"

Jonathan removed his glasses for a moment, cleaning them as he spoke, his words measured and with little inflection as they drifted up to the men standing above him. "Doctor Jonathan Crane, I'm a survivor searching for shelter and a place to conduct my experiments." It was no use lying, his purposes would aid these people as well as himself. The brunette man fixed some of his slightly long brown hair, flicking some of his bangs out of his eyes before replacing his horn-rimmed glasses on his nose. Full lips pulled into a soft smirk and Crane's dead blue eyes flickered over the worn and torn hodge-podge uniforms of the men in front of him. He could read the names Bell and Bedford on their chests, but decided that those could easily be the names of the men who had those uniforms before them.

"A doctor, huh?" The men lowered their weapons, looking over the slender man before snickering. "Well lookit you." They circled like dogs and grinned like Cheshire Cats as they took in Crane's face, the man frowning at them when they made low wolf whistles and licked their lips.

"Almost looks like a woman, don't he?"

"Yeah, yeah, but the other two are prettier."

"Maybe Top could get his rocks off with him."

Crane made a disgusted face at the conversation, batting the men away and curling his lip as he spoke in a clipped manner."I demand to see your commanding officer."

"What's all this?" Jonathan's eyes snapped to the door of the mansion, taking in the man standing there. He was dressed in his parade uniform, and for a moment he looked startled when Jonathan's eyes met his own. The man's beady green eyes were squinted almost permanently, his shaven head obviously once covered with gingery blonde hair. His shoulders were broad and thick and his legs were planted on the ground firmly, as if daring anything to attempt to move him from his spot. His voice was rough, slow and meticulous, as if he savored every word he spoke before it ever got past his lips.

The brunette man straightened to his full height, a good few inches shorter than this new arrival, who was obviously in charge from the way the other two men immediately backed off. "My name is Doctor Jonathan Crane and I am trying to concoct a cure for the rage virus."

The commander paused before he cleared his throat and stepped forward, holding out his hand to Jonathan. "Major Henry West, I'm running this operation and it would be a… pleasure to have you here."

They shook hands and Jonathan wiped his palm on his suit jacket obviously once their digits were released. "Quite. If you could show me to any unoccupied rooms I should be able to remain relatively out of your hair." He was so short with the man that it was almost amusing, almost like he really was a dignified, albeit pretentious, crane.

The Major smiled and nodded, leading Jonathan through the mansion, giving his spiel about their operation and showing off his newly captured infected (Mailer had died when Jim had released him) to Jonathan. The infected seemed to interest the man and Jonathan smirked as he circled just outside the radius of the infected's chain, fingering something at his wrist before it shot out and a cloud of purplish smoke encased the monster's face. The creature squealed and clawed at its own eyes, convulsing on the ground and shuddering as it writhed violently, tugging at it's own skull until there was a decisive crack and the body went limp.

Jonathan looked like a disappointed child who had broken a new toy. "You will need to get a new one." He sighed unhappily before he turned and looked at the Major. "A room for me?"

West couldn't help but find Crane's callousness… Intriguing… Arousing, even, and as he watched the smaller man adjust his sleeve cuff, he respected his ingenuity even more. "We don't have any open bedrooms, but the basement can be used for your studies."

"It will do." Jonathan nodded.

"Dinner is around 1800." The Major smiled. "I would enjoy hearing something other than my men harassing the women-folk."

Jonathan hummed out a perhaps before he was let into the basement. He paused before entering to speak slowly, thoughtfully. "In exchange for your aid… I will offer my medical services to you and your men."

"Thank you, Doctor Crane." West smirked at the man's back as the slender figure descended into darkness. As the brunette disappeared and the door closed, the older man made his way back to his own private quarters, mulling over the new arrival. "Jonathan Crane… Much better than Jim…"

Selena and Hannah rarely stopped crying now, and when they weren't crying they were in a state of shock that left them cold, blank slates. Their clothing had been reduced to their undergarments, even those being torn to barely-there pieces that hung on bare threads. They were the dolls that the men wanted, complacent little fuck-toys. There were circles under Selena's eyes and frown lines at the corners of her mouth. She looked ten years older than she was now, having been run ragged by the men holding her and Hannah captive. Hannah seemed to be in a permanently drugged state now, absently looking around as if she had no real comprehension of the world around her. Occasionally she would have bouts of lucidity, but the affect of the drugs remained almost twenty-four seven.

When they saw, Crane, however, sitting on the right side of West, their eyes lit up and a glistening of hope flittered across their faces. Until they saw that this man was far colder than Jim, far primmer and more civilized than Jim's almost animalistic ways. It soon became obvious from just looking at this man's appearance – at his stance and poise – that this was not their Jim.

"So, Crane, you're not from this country?"

"I came to England from Gotham City in New York. I ran an insane asylum back there."

"Lucrative business, why leave?"

"I assure you, it wasn't my first choice." Jonathan sliced his omelet, taking a bite and making a face before continuing to eat. "How long have you all been here?"

"About a year." The brunette man nodded at West's answer. "So how have you been keeping the infected off you?"

"I was a chemist before I was a psychologist and administrator." The brunette. "I've every doctorate in the medical field that one human can attain in a lifetime. Just because the infected no longer have human reasoning, doesn't mean they aren't susceptible to the baser human emotions. They succumbed to rage, after all. My studies have proven they succumb to other things as well."

"Such as?"

"Most noticeably so far: Fear, Depression and… Sexual urges." The doctor made a face at the last statement. "It's rather disgusting, honestly."

"Wait, so you saw an infected fuck something?" One of the soldiers guffawed, food flying from his mouth as he grinned. "That's wild!"

"I assure you, sir, it was less than amusing." Jonathan leaned back in his chair. The chilling, breathy quality to his voice that was like smoke rings in the air sent shivers down the spines of the men and two women. Most noticeably West seemed to be shifting uncomfortably in his seat as he listened intently."I watched as an infected male copulated with my female companion at of the time before tearing her apart and ejaculating numerous times across her corpse."

Selena covered Hannah's ears, shivering as she looked at this cold man as he spoke of such things as if they were comments on the weather. He looked like Jim, but it was obvious that this Doctor Crane was nothing like their friend, who wouldn't speak so lightly of death and the infected themselves.

"Though I'm sure many of you are aware of how brutal the infected can be, you face them frequently."

"We try not to get as close as you have, Doctor." West smiled as he ran his figners around the rim of his glass of water. "Perhaps you're more foolish than you seem."

"Perhaps I'm simply braver and you choose to see that as foolishness." Jonathan took a sip from his own glass. "I notice there is no bed in the basement. Where should I sleep?"

"Well all the rooms are occupied. Perhaps you would care to room with me. I'd like to think I'm one of the better options."

Crane sniffed and gave the older man a skeptical look before he responded. "I suppose I can live with that, at least until some form of proper furniture can be moved to the basement."


End file.
